


Windowpanes and Snowfall

by ajkal2



Series: Doorsteps-verse (aka that one where dave runs away to roses) [7]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Feelings(tm), Gen, Sibling Bonding, Twin reveal, Twins, ah the sweet smell of enotional turmoil in the morning, talks about feelings, this thing is small wow, whatever im posting it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:41:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8520637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajkal2/pseuds/ajkal2
Summary: So those were some bombshells last time around. Shall we have a look at the landscape they carved out?





	

You sit, and watch the snow, a half-knitted scarf draped across your legs. You’ve always found the sight soothing. There’s something about the hush that snow comes with, the silence as it falls, the way it seems as though the world has paused. Everything stops, when snow is falling. The trees look black, contrast with the white drifts, and seem almost skeletal without their leaves. There’s a metaphor there, somewhere: white and black, branches raking at the sky. You let the thought pass you by, and watch. 

 

An indeterminable amount of time later, a sneaker scuffs against the polished floor behind you. 

 

You know it’s his way of asking some sort of permission, so you move over, curling up so there’s space for two on the narrow ledge. Your breath fogs against the glass as he sits, and another thought flits through your head: crows, and perching, and a questioning tilt of the head.

 

The snow is still falling, and you watch it as he watches you. 

 

You speculate how long he’ll last. He’s never been good with silences. 

 

“So, uh, that happened,” he says, “That was a thing, and it happened, and you’ve always been the therapist creepy mind-reader one so- Wait, twin telepathy, is that a thing, is that too soon, what do I say, Rose help you’ve always been better than me at. Words. And feelings. Stuff.”

 

The smile comes without prompt, and he huffs because he knows you’re laughing at him, and you raise an eyebrow because he would be laughing in your place, and he pulls a face, conceding the point, and you wonder. Twin telepathy. 

 

“I may have you beat in eloquence, but for sheer loquaciousness one must go to you.” 

 

“ _ Loquaciousness.  _ You made that up, you made that word up, I do not believe for one goddamn second that a word that snobby exists.” He sprawls. His hands are tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. His shades reflect the fields of white outside. You don’t know how long it took him to learn that, the angle of his head and slant of his shoulders and smirk that gives away nothing. 

 

“Check the dictionary, it’s a word alright,” you reply, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “And surely I should be the one enquiring after  _ your  _ emotional state. Revelations are a double-edged sword, after all.” You glance his way, 

 

“Man, I’m already FUBAR, what’s a few more abandonment issues?” He shrugs, the motion rolling through his shoulders. 

 

You swat his arm, and one side of his mouth curls up. “Acronyms, Dave. Also classic evasion of the question.”

 

“Evasion of the question, wow, you wouldn’t know anything about that would you Rose?”

 

“I’ve wanted to be a therapist for  _ years,  _ of course I’d be familiar with evasive tactics, Dave. Now,” You lean forward threateningly. “Tell me about your  _ feelings. _ ” 

 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He wriggles his eyebrows. 

 

You give him a flat look, but the eyebrows don’t stop. It just… keeps happening. 

 

“Feelings jams of the sort you’re describing are traditionally conducted in more comfortable surroundings.”

 

He furrows his brow. “... What the fuck is a feelings jam?”

 

You shrug. “Kanaya’s best friend’s half-brother has an interesting viewpoint on these type of ideas. If you can listen long enough to understand his...unique vernacular.”

 

“Huh. OK, now you have two choices: moon over Kanaya-desu while I gag on fluff, or, you know,” he shudders. “ _ Feelings.” _

You know that talking about what you feel is conductive, even essential, to coming to terms with it. This does not make the choice any easier. Neither of you look at the other, but something in the air shifts, and though you’d love to wax poetic about your girlfriend, this is more important.

 

“Who goes first?” you concede, shifting to face away from the window. You lean back against the cold glass. 

 

He mirrors you, and shrugs. “We could flip a coin.”

 

There’s a long moment.

  
“What, if I can’t joke about it nobody can. Least it wasn’t out of malice. Just chance.” He shuffles, tucking his feet up onto the seat.

 

“Does that really matter? It still  _ happened. _ ” 

 

“Yeah, it did. But... I don’t know. It changes it a bit, the chance. Could’ve gone either way. Can’t blame anyone.”

 

You snort. “Oh, there’s plenty of blame to go around. She didn’t have to-”

 

“Yeah. She did.”

 

“Why? How? What in the world could possibly-”   
  


“I don’t know, I haven’t got the answers, but-” He trails off, rubbing at his head. “I just… I don’t know. Impossible choices… I don’t know. You don’t choose to make a choice like that. It just… happens.”

 

“It’s not-It’s not  _ fair, _ how it ended out.” 

 

He smirks wryly. “What is? Anyways, it happened, and we’re here.”

 

Snow falls behind you, flakes silently spiralling to rest. You rest your head against his shoulder.

 

“I always… always knew that he wasn’t going to be around. That I’d never meet him.” You sigh, letting the words drop from your lips. “I was never going to meet my father, and that was fine.” You grit your teeth, and take a breath. “It was  _ fine. _ ” 

 

“Sounds like a river in Egypt, sis.” 

 

“Oh, shut up. I want to punch them in the face, you know? I want to just march up to his door and throttle him for what he did to you. I want him to be thrown into the deepest, darkest cell. But I don’t want you to have to ever see him,or think about him, or be in the same room or city or  _ state  _ as him. And as for her, she  _ left  _ you and didn’t even try to contact you or check up, and I hate her for that. And you can fight your own battles-” He snorts, and you know his fingers are skimming the bandages still wrapped around his chest. “Yes you can. But you don’t have too. Not anymore, you’re not alone anymore-”

 

“Never was, idiot.” He leans over and bumps your shoulder with his. “Had you, didn’t I? You and John and Jade.”

 

Your mouth twists, because he didn’t have anyone there with him, and the four of you are close but you’ve always had Kanaya and Karkat and real life friends as well as John and Jade and Dave, and he  _ hasn’t.  _ He  _ wasn’t allowed. _ There is anger, deep inside you. There is something deep and dark and bloodthirsty making a home in your chest. You can feel it, and it roils like the sea, howls for retribution, snaps its jaws in thirst for  _ blood _ . 

 

You breathe in. You breathe out. You remind yourself that trauma patients need a safe, welcoming environment. You remind yourself that the main object of your ire is miles away, and the only person you would be hurting by letting anything out is innocent. You remind yourself that vengeance is a fool's pursuit.

 

That does not mean you want it any less, but Dave has to be your priority right now.

 

You lean over, letting your shoulder rest against his, and turn to watch the snow. 

 

He turns as well, pressing against your side.

 

The snow keeps on falling, like a white bandage covering the world. 

 

“I always wondered, y’know?” Dave admits, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I guessed, he didn’t exactly keep it a secret, just… didn’t care enough to tell me. Fuck, maybe that’s the heart of it, he didn’t care enough. But, soon as I cottoned on about birds and bees and all that shit, I wondered.

 

“Just kinda assumed she didn’t care, was some random who didn’t want anything to do with me. It was fine. Not you-fine, fine-fine, the actual meaning of the word. And then boom, bombshell drops, and hey, look at that, she didn’t want to leave me. She didn’t have a choice, so she had to make a choice. But she didn’t want to, and that's..” He swallows, “A thing. And, guess what else I get out of this, you’re stuck with me now. I got a little sister.” You shift your position nonchalantly.

 

“Call me little again, brother dearest. See where it gets you.”

He smirks, freeing his arm and patting you on the head. The level of passive-aggressive it inspires condensation is impressive, for a beginner. You give him the sweetest smile you can muster. Your knitting needles, resting on your lap, suddenly find themselves jabbing into his side. How did that happen. Dave’s smirk blooms into a genuine smile. 

 

There’s a movement outside, and Dave glances out. IN a moment he flashes away from the window and reappears a few paces back, carefully relaxed in that way that you know means he is in panic mode. You look out, keeping an eye on him. 

 

There’s a figure in a black coat wading through the snow. You register black hair, the flash of reflected light from glasses as he looks up, a green scarf, darkly tanned skin that is incongruous in New York. 

 

You set your knitting aside as the man vanishes under the porch, striding to the top of the stairs. 

  
“Who is he?” you ask, but Dave is gone, flowing to the fireplace for a semblance of a weapon, scanning doorways and shadows. “Dave,  _ who is he?”  _

 

His face has gone blank again, voice the old monotone as his lips form a name. 

 

“Jake English.”

 

You have no idea who that is. The doorbell rings.

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
